


Fickle Fate

by WorstofAllEvils



Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, First Love, Hurt/Comfort, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-16 03:07:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29818497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WorstofAllEvils/pseuds/WorstofAllEvils
Summary: They say fate is a vicious goddess, and that has certainly held true in Tommy Shelby's life. He's been blessed and cursed more times than he can count. Meeting Selene Monaghan was simply one of those blessings - or, as it's looking more and more by the day, curses.They say men are not prisoners of fate, but in the early 1900s it's a different story for women. Selene Monaghan's life has taken every wrong turn imaginable. She would have never thought of meeting Tommy Shelby as one of those wrong turns - until it looks like things have finally turned up for her.
Relationships: Tommy Shelby/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 20





	1. Partings and Preludes

It’s hard to define what they are. They’d grown up together, practically inseparable. Until the war, at least. She’d seen him become a man. Fall in love with Greta. Lose Greta. Waved him off at the train station as he went to join the fight. That had been the hardest moment of them all, probably, but she had consoled herself with the fact that at least he wouldn’t be alone over there.

They were an unlikely pair. The daughter of a factory owner and the son of a traveler. Normally, a young girl like her wouldn’t have been allowed to go and play with the boys, especially _those_ kinds of boys in _that_ kind of neighborhood, but she didn’t have anybody to tell her not to. Her mother had died years earlier, when she was barely old enough to remember. Thrown herself into the sea on a family vacation. She supposed that was what really drew them to each other in the first place. A drowned mother and a father too drunk to care - the only things they had in common. His had actually left. Hers might as well have.

Friends doesn’t quite fit. He’s more like a brother to her, but that doesn’t feel right to say either. She has a brother. She _had_ a brother, she corrects herself.

She wipes the frown from her face as she stamps her cigarette out in the alleyway behind The Garrison. Her heels clip against the floor as she enters through the back door, though the sound is obscured by the noise of a chair falling in the pub.

She hurries her footsteps, taking in the scene briefly before shouting, “Oi, what’s going on here? Shelby, get your hands off him.”

Nick looks over at her, an eyebrow raised. Tommy unclenches his hands from the man’s coat and lets them drop, still glaring. Nick steps back and straightens his clothes while saying, “This ruffian seems to have a problem with my being here.”

“That ruffian was my brother’s best friend, so mind yourself,” she says sweetly before dropping the tone and turning to the other man. “And you - don’t pretend you haven’t heard.”

“Heard what, Selene?” Tommy says, his smirk giving him away. “I haven’t the faintest clue who this man is. I just suggested that if he was unsatisfied with the service here, he leave rather than disrespecting Harry.”

She’s sure Tommy has heard, no matter what he says. About how she had gone off to join the Women's Land Army. About how Nick is the son of the family whose house she was stationed at. About how she’d grown close to him helping take care of his wounds - relatively minor, thank goodness - after he’d come back from the war. Was that really months ago now?

Still, if Tommy wants to pretend, it’s better to pretend. At least in public.

“In that case… Thomas Shelby, meet Nicholas Cust. My fiancé,” she says with a wide smile. They stand there still staring at each other for a second. She laughs awkwardly, “Well, do shake hands or something.”

Tommy is the first to stick his hand out, declaring in that tone he always used to use whenever Aunt Polly caught him getting in to trouble, “An honor, Lord Brownlow.”

“My honor, I’m sure,” Nick responds with matching politeness as he shakes his hand. “I heard you won medals in the war. I’d love to see them.”

“I’d love to show them to you,” Tommy responds, a twinkle in his eye. Nick misses the threat, opening his mouth to respond. Before he can, she interrupts.

“I have been meaning to thank you, Thomas. I know it was you that got Edward a good spot, on top of the hill. It always was his favorite place.”

“It’s nothing,” he mutters, looking down. The entire room seems to fall to silence as they do. The air feels heavy. She can feel everybody’s eyes trying not to look.

At least Nick seems to pick up on the mood. He looks to her as he says, “It’s getting late. I’m going to get the car. Are you sure you want to stay here?”

“Yes. As I mentioned at the factory, I still have to settle some affairs for my father’s estate. It should just take a day or two. I will take the train back when I am done.”

He steps forward, placing a hand on her waist and pulling her closer, “Are you sure I shouldn’t stay as well?”

“Don’t worry. I’m sure you have your own affairs to attend to. Birmingham is plenty safe if you know your way around,” she answers with a smile. She does not add the second part of what she’s thinking: _especially if you know Tommy Shelby_.

“Alright. Just call and I’ll send a driver. Be safe, my moon,” he whispers, ducking his head down to kiss her forehead and then smiling at her as she mutters back a farewell. She watches him walk away until the door closes. The pub comes back to life.

“Your brothers in there?” she asks a moment later, cocking her head toward the booth.

He doesn’t answer directly, simply leading the way over to the family’s unofficial haunt and opening the door for her to pass through. Tommy slides in after, grabbing the bottle of Irish Whisky and two glasses Harry left in the window before slipping in to the space across from her.

She pours them drinks, asking while she does, “How’s everybody?”

“Polly and Ada wanted to invite you for tea. I told them they were being silly.”

“Now why would you say something like that, Thomas Shelby?” she chides.

He leans forward, whispering conspiratorially, “Isn’t dirtying her shoes in the mud of Watery Lane and drinking out of chipped cups a little below the soon-to-be Lady Brownlow?”

She laughs at his absurdity before replying, “Don’t say it that way, Thomas. I’m here, amn’t I? You know I’ve never cared about those sorts of things.”

“Don’t call me Thomas,” he answers, leaning even further across the table.

“What should I call you then? Mr. Shelby?” she quips before lifting her glass.

“Tommy,” he hisses, making her stop mid-sip. She looks down at him, his blue eyes intent as they catch hers. “Just Tommy. Like always.”

She laughs again and reaches a hand out to swat at his arm, her mind failing her for any verbal response. He catches it, fingers wrapping around her wrist and pulling it down to the table under his. His eyes are still trained on her.

“You should stay in Birmingham.”

“Aren’t you the one who hates Birmingham? Perhaps you should leave it.”

“Everybody misses you, Selie. Stay. Just a little while.”

“How long’s a little while, Tommy?” she asks. When she’s met with silence, she looks away while putting her glass down. “The wedding’s in two months. You should come.”

He lets her go, grinding his jaw as he leans back in his seat again. He sips from his glass for a long moment, eyes downcast, those long lashes the only thing she sees when she tries to read the expression in them.

If there’s one thing she knows is still true about him, it’s that Tommy Shelby does not like change he doesn’t plan. Above all, Tommy Shelby does not like when people leave.

But he’d left her. What was she to do, sit in her family’s empty house waiting for him?

Finally, he pulls his glass away from his mouth and looks back up to say, “It’s too far.”

“Don’t make excuses. I saw that car parked down the street. Can’t you take one day off from your grand mission to take over the world or whatever you are up to?”

“It’s an older model. Won’t make it all the way.”

“Then I’ll have Nick send a driver out and take you back the next day,” she counters. “Come on, Tommy. Everybody will have fun. God knows we’ve been overdue for the chance to gather for a celebration. And I could use someone to walk me down the aisle.”

There is a flash of something on his face. Anger? That can’t be right. Maybe he’s just sad thinking about her brother again. They’d been just as close as the two of them are. A little triad of trouble. Closer, even, perhaps, considering they’d been in the same unit during the war.

When there is no reply, she says gently, “He’s a good man. Edward would be happy.”

“Easy to be a good man when you have other men to do the work of feeding your family for you,” he mutters.

“That’s not fair. He didn’t ask for any of that. It’s just how he was born,” she responds with a huff. He turns toward her, looking strikingly similar to a puppy who has just been kicked. She sighs. “I’m not saying you’re a bad man, Thomas. You’re one of the best men I know. I know whatever you’re up to, there’s a reason for it. You just have to get out of your head sometimes. Sometimes it seems like you live among ghosts more than actual people.”

“If we hadn’t gotten separated, I would have tried to save - ”

“I know. It’s not your fault he’s dead, Tommy. I don’t want you to feel responsible for it, or for me. It’s just… I don’t want to feel alone that day.”

“Then stay here, Selie. You’ll never feel alone in Birmingham. I can promise you that.”

“Things are different now. Everybody has their own lives. John’s already married. Arthur’s bound to be soon. Ada’s too pretty not to catch a husband, even with you lot trying to scare men away. And you and Polly are busy with the business, from what I hear. I don’t want to get in the way.”

“You’re smart enough never to get in the way.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that I’ll never be a Shelby, Tommy.”

“You never know,” he says with a shrug and a smirk. “Maybe Arthur’ll marry you, if you’ll have him.”

“Hmm, future Lady Brownlow or Arthur Shelby Jr.’s wife… that’s a tough decision,” she jokes, pouring another round for them. The sound of the front door banging open makes her jump in the middle, spilling a bit on the table. She looks up to see Arthur in the doorway to the booth and laughs lightly, “Well, speak of the devil. Looks like we’ll be needing a refill.”

“Harry’s in the back,” Arthur mutters. “You don’t mind if I take yours, do ya?”

“It’s fine, I’ll grab it myself then. I’m sure you two - three,” she corrects as she sees John behind him after standing, “have things to talk about. Just knock when you’re ready.”

It only takes five minutes before she hears the sound of a fist pounding against the wooden window. She walks back in, carrying another bottle and two more glasses, only to find the boys arguing about something. They quiet down as soon as she arrives, each looking at her as if they couldn’t be any more innocent. A tell-tale sign they’ve been plotting something.

Arthur, spread out along the back bench where two should be able to fit, says with a smile as she pours, “Sorry love, no space left. You’ll just have to sit in one of our laps.”

“Don’t be scandalous, Arthur,” she admonishes with fake seriousness, the smile on her face giving her away. “I’m sure you’ve heard I’m accounted for.”

“Accounted for, alright,” Arthur says, smile widening even more in response.

John puts his hands up and leans back in his chair, “Not that I’d turn a pretty bird like you down, but my wife might have something to say if I don’t. No offense meant, Selene.”

They both snicker as if there’s some part of this joke she is not getting. She’s just about to turn toward the door to grab another chair from outside when she feels an arm around her waist pulling her in. The snickering intensifies as she blushes.

“Enough,” Tommy says, gravely voice far too close to her ear. She can hear the laughter hidden in it. “You’re making the lady uncomfortable.”

“I’m not uncomfortable,” she defends quickly, not wanting to seem like a prude.

“Are you sure about that?” he says in a teasing whisper, warm breath brushing her skin.

“Of course,” she answers, trying not to squirm in his lap. He hums in response. How can the human body make such an angelic noise? She tries to defend herself, “Why would I be, we’re basically siblings too.”

“Then I suppose you wouldn’t mind staying here, _sister_ ,” he hisses, lifting his glass from the table and to her lips.

At first, she stays stiff, worried about every single little movement and word. But within minutes John has distracted her with one of his stories and she begins to relax, forgetting the position she is in. They talk and laugh like the good old days for what feels like an hour before John excuses himself, saying he has to pick up some groceries for dinner on the way home. Arthur follows soon after, muttering about boxing practice. She moves to slide off of Tommy’s lap and into the space he was formerly occupying as he leaves. Tommy’s arms tightens around her waist, refusing to let her go.

“Tommy,” she starts to warn, word coming out slightly slurred.

“Shh,” he whispers before ducking his head down to her neck and kissing it. She gasps, instinctively melting into him again. His hand slips up to her face, taking her chin to pull her head to the side so he can kiss her lips.

Their first kiss. It shouldn’t be like this. Heated lips, whisky breath, his teeth clashing against hers. Other hand already searching her body, sliding its way up her dress. No, it shouldn’t be _at all_ , she remembers.

“Tommy, I can’t - ”

“The pub’s empty.”

“Does that matter?”

“Nobody has to know.”

“Still - ”

“Stop me,” he challenges.

She’s wanted this her whole life but not like this. Sometimes things are better in your imagination. She pulls away, wrenching her head from his grip and separating their faces by enough distance for them to make eye contact. Silence stretches between them for a second as they each catch their breath.

“I can be better,” he whispers, his hand coming up to her face again. She can hear the yearning in his voice. “Will be better. Just give me time. Five years. No, three.”

“You can’t make me stay like this,” she says, tone even.

“Is that what you think I’m doing?” he asks through gritted teeth.

“What else could you be doing, Tommy?” she fires back.

His eyes narrow at her. His jaw clicks. His arms loosen so she can finally slide off his lap.

She does not, watching him for a few seconds before saying softly, “I’m sorry you lost her, Tommy. Life isn’t fair, and you didn’t deserve to be hurt like that. But you can’t fill that hole with me just because I’m here. Love doesn’t work like that. And I’m not leaving, I’m just going somewhere else. If you ever need me, I’ll be there.”

“What if I need you right now?”

“Trust me, this isn’t what you need, Tommy. You’ll find someone else eventually.”

There’s a pause as he searches her face before asking, “Do you love him?”

She puts on a smile. Not that she doesn’t feel like smiling, really. It’s just that it feels wrong to smile here, at this moment. In the pub her brother frequented, not even a year after his death. What gives her the right to be happy when he won’t be ever again?

“Of course I do,” she admits. “It took a while too, after everything, but - ”

“Right, of course,” Tommy says, shifting away from her. “I have to get back to work.”

She nods and forces herself to keep smiling despite the change in his demeanor. Despite the regret blossoming inside of her. What was she thinking, practically bragging to him about her love when he’d lost his? God, she’s so stupid. Obviously he wouldn’t want to hear something like that. She should have just changed the subject or something.

He turns back just as he reaches the door and grabs his coat off the hook to pull it on, “Send the invitation over. Polly and Ada will want to go, at least.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspiration struck, and I simply had to write it before Season 6 comes out and potentially ruins my plot. This is my first time writing Tommy Shebly, and I haven't watched the show in a while (though a rewatch is now upcoming, of course), so please let me know what you think!


	2. Past and Present

They met when he was 10. The week after his mother died. Needless to say, he'd still been processing. More specifically, processing by running away from home to cry in some back alleyway so John and Ada won't see he isn't keeping it together.

"Here," a small voice peeps out from a few feet away. He looks up, confused, to see a little girl standing in front of him holding out a handkerchief.

"Go away," he responds in the meanest voice he can manage.

"Do you want some water? Or tea? Or biscuits? I know after crying I always have a terrible headache, and biscuits - "

"I said go away. I don't need your help."

"I know, but you don't have to be rude either."

"You're the one being rude."  
"I am?"

"You're bothering a stranger in private."

"But we're in the middle of the street. And, anyway, I'm not trying to bother you."

"Well you are."

"Oh. I'm sorry. I'll leave," she says in a small voice while turning to walk away - coincidentally dropping her handkerchief on the way. After she is gone, he picks it up and uses it to wipe his eyes. Better than continuing to rub his skin raw on his sleeve.

* * *

He ends up in the same alleyway, crying again, the next week. He wonders if every Friday afternoon will be like this.

He doesn't even notice the sound of a door opening. He only realizes she's back when he sees a silver tray being pushed along the ground by some sort of rod out of his peripheral vision. When he lifts his head to look up and behind him for her, he hears the rod drop and the door slam shut. He pulls the tray the rest of the way toward himself, carefully analyzing the floral tea set and tin of biscuits on it before lifting up the note tucked under the cup to read.

_I'm sorry if the tea's cold already._

* * *

He starts passing by that street everyday. He doesn't see her again until Wednesday.

"What are you doing?" he asks, staring down at her.

"Playing marbles," she answers, not even looking up.

"By yourself?" he sneers.

"No, with Alex," she huffs. He raises an eyebrow at her. She reaches for a hat left on its head next to her and puts it on before reaching an arm out toward him. "Hello, I'm Alex."

"You're strange," he says without moving to shake her hand.

"Don't call me that," she says, scowling as she drops it.

"Why not? It's true, isn't it? That's why you haven't got any friends to play with."

"Just because it's true it doesn't mean it should be said."

"Do you have more biscuits?"

"I do," she says with a mischievous smile. "I'll play you for them."

"Why would I want to play with you?" he scoffs, crossing his arms.

"Fine then. Goodbye," she says, taking the hat off and turning to her game again.

He gives in and sits down on the ground across from her. She ends up winning by only a few points. Upset, he gets up to leave without a word. She turns and runs away before he can, calling out to him to wait. The same door slams behind her again. A minute later she comes back holding another box.

"No tea this time?"

"Sorry. I can have Rose make some."

"I was joking."

"Oh. Sorry."

"Stop apologizing for everything."

"But father says its polite - "

"Well you don't always have to be polite, do you? I was rude to you, why can't you be rude back?" he spits out while snatching the box from her. Her face darkens and she looks away. He understands what that means. He knows too many kids whose father's beat them not to. He didn't think people like her had that problem, though. "How old are you?"

"Seven, but I'll be eight next month."

"What are you doing out here?"

"Oh, father works in the factory back there. When my brother is busy with extra lessons, I have to come here and Rose is supposed to watch me but she doesn't really so…" she trails off, looking like she's about to apologize again for boring him or something.

"So you always play marbles?"

"No. Usually I read, but Edward just gave me those since he bought new ones. Though I really still - I'm sorry, I must be boring you."

He rolls his eyes before saying, "Do you want to play another game?"

She looks at him like he's mad for a second, then nods enthusiastically.

It's only the next month when he gives her a hair bow he nicked off a cart for her birthday that he thinks to ask her name. When she asks for his, he thinks about lying. He half expects her to never show up again for their now almost daily meetings if he tells her the truth. He says it anyway. She smiles and asks when his birthday is.

* * *

He's 17, she's 15, and her brother's 18. She'd come to visit after school and he's walking her home along the canals. They're just walking and talking about some books she'd leant him the previous week. A lot has changed since those days playing marbles, but a lot hasn't really.

There's a puddle of water on the path so he offers her his arm, placing a hand on her waist to lift her up and over it so that her skirt does not get dirty. He decides not to move his hand right away when he sets her down, letting it linger for a minute. She's talking so animatedly about all the holes in the logic of this great philosophical treatise or something that he thinks she doesn't even notice. He feels his face go red and drops his hand so that he can focus again.

They reach her neighborhood. He knows that she will have to walk up the steps and back into general public view any minute now, leaving him behind. He stops, leaning back against the stone embankment and staring into the water. She looks at him quizzically before stopping too, then moves to his side, leaning back even though it'll probably stain her dress.

"The water looks nice today. Calm," he says quietly.

"It does. And you, Tommy?" she asks casually. She always knows when he's in his head.

"Today was a good day, huh?" he replies, the hint of a laugh in his tone. "Polly was so happy when you complimented that dress she made Ada. Sorry about Arthur picking you up."

"Don't be, he's always good for a laugh. Like a big bear, that one. He means well, he just likes to show off his strength. Anyway, how was school?" she inquiries. Another thing she always knows. Whether he'd actually gone that day or not. His silence confirms his guilt. "Tommy, you know you should still go. If you can get - "

"I don't want to go. People there aren't like you. They don't like things that are different. People that are different."

"Well, they're wrong to be like that. You'll show them, right? You'll score better marks than any of them and get sponsored at Oxford or Cambridge or somewhere like that. After all, you're Tommy Shelby. You're more brilliant than any of them even when you're half asleep and hardly trying. But you'll try, won't you?"

He looks over at her, the smile on her face bringing one to his own, "I'll try."

"Wonderful," she says before pushing off the wall. "But if I'm late - "

He reaches a hand out, catching hers. He hooks his fingers through hers and pulls her back. He isn't sure, so he doesn't say anything for a second. She raises an eyebrow at him to signal she is waiting. He decides to ask, "Do you like my family, Selie?"

"Of course I do, Tommy. Why would I visit so often if I didn't?"

"What if you…" he has to stop to catch his breath and try again. "What if you were a part of it? Would you like that?"

She laughs and steps closer, "Well, I like to think I already am, in a way."

He pulls their hands together completely, bringing her so close that their shoes are almost touching. His head is tilted down at them as he nearly whispers, "If I went to Oxford or Cambridge or somewhere like that, do you think - "

A voice calls her name from down the canal, interrupting them. He drops her hand and pulls away. Her brother strolls up, a wide grin on his face, "Hey, Tommy. Sorry to bother. Father's come home home early, Selene. I told him you were out buying gloves, so you best pick up a pair quickly on your way back."

She sighs, "Edward, you have to come up with something better than gloves next time. At this rate, I'll have twenty pairs by the end of the month. Can't I get a few new hats, or at least some stockings?"

"Gloves next time, got it," Edward jokes before turning to him. "Are you going to the football game next weekend?"

She waves goodbye to Tommy before heading off down the path in the direction Edward came from. He looks after her while answering absentmindedly. There's a lull of silence for a minute before Edward claps him on the shoulder to get his attention.

His head snaps back, looking up at the older boy, who is still smiling the most pleasant smile in the world as he says, "Tommy, you're a fine boy and a good friend, but don't go getting eyes for my sister."

"I'm not," Tommy is careful to say just as calmly.

"Are you sure about that?"

"I am."

"Because for a second there, it looked like you already had."

"Your eyesight must have been mistaken. The path was slippery. I was simply ensuring she did not fall."

"She's beautiful though, isn't she? Really growing into a fine young lady."

"I'm sure she is."

"Haven't you ever thought about - "

"Have you? Of course not. She's your sister. And she's like that to me too. A sister."

"Except she's not your sister though, is she? So you don't have eyes for my sister?"

"As I've said, no."

"Good. Because that would end badly for you. You see, she likes someone else."

"Who?" Tommy responds reflexively, fist clenching.

"See, I knew it," Edward replies with a click of his tongue. "Come on, Tommy, you know exactly what's wrong with this or you wouldn't have lied."

"I know. But if we end up loving each other, it doesn't matter, does it?"

"Jesus fucking Christ, Tommy. Of course it matters. Our father nearly pulled her out of school after catching her talking to you once. What do you think he's going to do if she tries to run off with you? You have dreams, and that's fine, but she does too."

"I can wait until she's done with school. I can make myself respectable by then. Go to college and get a decent - "

"That's not going to change things."

"Why not?"

"You know I'm not saying this to hurt you, it's just the truth," he says. Edward sighs and looks away, running a hand through his hair as he continues, "Tommy, it's not going to change who you are - and who she is. You'll always be from different places. I'm just trying to help you. Don't fall in love with my sister. It won't work out."

Tommy falls silent, looking back at the water. They stand there awkwardly for a second before Edward claps him on the back again and turns to walk away with the parting words, "Buck up. You'll find somebody else."

* * *

He's 25, she's 23, and her brother's 26 and an officer. He's sitting on a bale of hay next to Tommy as Tommy checks his horse's hooves.

He hasn't seen her in over a year. When he left, she was just finishing school. From her early letters, he knows she's raising money and helping out however she can with the war effort back home. But civilian letters haven't been able to reach them for months. He wonders what she's doing right now. If she's safe. Of course she's safe, he thinks. She's still in England. Not here with the shells and the bullets and the tunnels. At least a truce seems to have been called today. No blasts ringing in his head for once. Easter's good for something after all.

He focuses on the horse, moving on to brushing out its mane. The repetitive action helps him clear his head and enter a sort of trance. One from which he's only awakened by Edward shifting and clearing his throat.

"Tommy, there's just one thing I want to say to you in case you make it out of here and I don't," Edward declares, looking at him seriously. There's a pause before he continues, "Fuck him. Seriously, fuck that fucking piece of shit who calls himself my father. If there's one thing I've learned from this war, it's that class doesn't matter. All men die the same, and you're a better man than most. So I'm giving you permission. Not just permission, I'm asking you to do it, I want you to do it. Understand?"

"Don't talk like that, Ed. We're both going to make it out of here."

"If that ends up being true, all the better. I'll get to walk her down the aisle. But even if it doesn't, the second you step off that train back in Birmingham - because I know she'll be there waiting for you - ask her to marry you. Just do it. Selene saw something special in you before the rest of us did. Before I did, if I'm being honest. There's no way she won't say yes."

"You said it yourself," Tommy says, looking away and shaking his head. "We're from different places. If I marry her, I'll just be dragging her into the muck with me."

"You have a medal and a rank now. There's no way he can object to it without sounding unpatriotic, so he will give you the dowry. Until then, if I don't make it, you two will have my officer's pay to tide you over. Take it and go off to live happily ever after away from the smoke and the dust and all this mud, in real life and in your head. Promise me you will, Tommy. After all this, you two deserve to be happy."

He nods, allowing himself to think of the possibility for a first time in a long time.

But when Tommy does step off the train - the same one carrying Edward's coffin - she's not there. The house is quiet when he gets home. He hears Polly whisper something to Arthur and John as they come in after him. He asks her what. She asks him if he wants a drink. He asks her where Selene is. She says she's got rum and gin. He says he's going over there. She says get some rest, don't bother the girl at this hour. She says a lot of things over the next three days, but it's only when he goes down to the yard that he hears the truth.

He doesn't plan to see her again. He doesn't think he can. Luckily, there is no funeral.

And then there she is in The Garrison and his resolve falls apart like every other time he'd tried to squash these feelings. It's only when she says those words that he realizes things haven't really changed - not the important ones, anyway. Not yet.

_Future Lady Brownlow or Arthur Shelby Jr.'s wife… that's a tough decision._

Would it be a different one if he substituted his name in, he wonders?

And then with the encouragement of his brothers and the alcohol, he decides to see. Fuck it, he'd made a promise and he intends to at least try to keep it. Fuck it, he has nothing else to lose at this point. He's already going to lose her if he doesn't try.

It feels like pure heaven for a second. The blasts fade from his head and the places he'd been injured no longer hurt. There's no feeling except her, everywhere, and god help him if he's even going to try not to ravage her right here after so many years of dreaming of it. He's ravenous, like an animal feeding after a long hibernation. He could do this all day and he still wouldn't be anywhere near satisfied.

Then she pushes him away, giving him the answer he's always been afraid of. Suddenly, he wishes he'd never asked.


End file.
